


If I Could Stay

by mammothluv



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>May clearing her throat brings Jemma to attention. Her eyes snap up to meet May’s. The other woman’s expression is neutral until Jemma catches an ever so brief upward quirk of May’s lips.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Oh, Lord. Have I said any of that out loud?” Jemma utters, a sense of dread ratcheting ever higher up her chest and into her throat.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celestialskiff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/gifts).



> This was written in response to a prompt the fabulous celestialskiff left me in a comment meme: _Maybe something more about May and Jemma talking / bonding while they're on the base together during 2.17 or 2.18? Jemma could be feeling stressed by the situation or upset about Coulson and May could help._ In case anyone needs a reminder, since it took me months to finish and post this, it's set just after May directed the blame for Fury's missing toolbox on the missing Fitz in order to protect Jemma.
> 
> This is mainly May/Jemma but there are some hints of Jemma/Skye as well. 
> 
> Agents of SHIELD belongs to the show's creators and ABC. No copyright infringement is intended.

Jemma stands in front of the door and counts to ten before knocking softly.

No response.

She tries again. This time she adds softly, “May, it’s Jemma.”

A few seconds later the door slides open. Jemma wonders how it’s possible for an automated motion she’s seen thousands of times before to look suddenly so intimidating.

May’s sitting on the bed, the only furniture in her quarters save a small chair tucked under a desk in the opposite corner. Her back is straight and she sits in the middle of the bed, not leaning against a wall as Jemma does in her own bed. May’s eyes are focused on the tablet she’s holding; she raises them only briefly as Jemma walks through the door and it closes once again behind her.

Jemma once heard Lance Hunter compare May to a snake lying in the grass, ready to strike out the moment someone comes too close. Jemma didn’t bother to protest. The simile was so woefully inaccurate that it hardly seemed worth her effort and the distraction from her work it would cause to combat it.

May’s obviously more panther than anything, if one must make a comparison to the animal kingdom. Jemma’s eyes travel the length of May’s legs now, the black lycra of her workout pants displaying the muscle underneath prominently. Definitely panther -- solitary, powerful, protective, deadly, and with much more grace than a snake. May flexes a foot, causing her calf muscles to ripple and it’s not the first time Jemma has noticed how aesthetically pleasing...

May clearing her throat brings Jemma to attention. Her eyes snap up to meet May’s. The other woman’s expression is neutral until Jemma catches an ever so brief upward quirk of May’s lips.

“Oh, Lord. Have I said any of that out loud?” Jemma utters, a sense of dread ratcheting ever higher up her chest and into her throat.

“You haven’t said anything out loud since you walked in,” May observes and Jemma practically giggles with relief. “I assume your visit had a purpose” May prods with an inflection that’s less question and more ‘state your business and stop lurking.’

“I’ve never been in your room here,” Jemma says, staring around at blank walls and an empty desk and _does May have things?_ “Not,” she adds, “that I ever saw much of your quarters on the bus either.”

“And you decided tonight’s the night you’d ask for a tour?” Definitely a hint of impatience in that one, Jemma observes.

And Jemma deserves it, she really does.

“No, I…” May’s focus is on her tablet again, and somehow the lack of attention allows Jemma to go on, though what comes out is nowhere near the speech she’d just rehearsed in her own quarters for the past twenty minutes. “It’s just that anxiety can express itself in a number of ways. Cold and sweaty hands and feet for example, heart palpitations, trouble sleeping, shortness of breath, nausea, dizziness…”

Jemma takes that moment to look up and see that May’s attention has returned to her, genuine concern in the other woman’s eyes.

Observation is second nature to Jemma, mining data for what other people might dismiss as minutia. It’s an invaluable skill where May is concerned. Days ago it meant Jemma catalogued the slight twitch of May’s fingers against Jemma’s side when Jemma hugged her. Jemma tucked that observation away in her mind, which knows full well that sometimes split seconds are more significant than infinities. Now it gives Jemma the push she needs to say what she came here for in the first place.

“My point is that I tend to lash out at people…” she stumbles a bit here, because there’s a common wisdom that feelings and May are best left mutually exclusive. But Jemma’s never been good at drawing that line or even wanting to and she’s already here with words coming out of her mouth at speed so, “...at the people I care about.”

If May’s wondering about Jemma’s sudden interest in the floor tiles, she doesn’t mention so Jemma forges ahead. “Anyhow, I came here to say that, despite what I said, I don’t really believe that you’d throw Fitz to the wolves and I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. It’s just everything’s been so… confusing. I meant what I said. I do trust Coulson but I understand that you have your doubts. And the thing is, what I wanted to say is... I trust you too. It’s just everything got a bit muddled and I was rather a brat about the whole thing.”

May sighs, and for a moment Jemma thinks that’s all the response she’s going to get. She clenches and unclenches her toes, contemplates the best method of retreat.

She doesn’t get the chance.

“I can protect you, Jemma. That’s what I can do right now.” May’s voice is firm and, as always, there is no space for argument.

“And you need me to let you?” Jemma asks. Hesitant. Hopeful.

“I’m going to do it whether you protest or not.”

“Oh,” Jemma says. There’s a ferocity in May’s voice that has Jemma thinking of panthers again. There’s this image in her head of some nature documentary she watched with Coulson about mother cats and the way they protect their young. In that moment, the hard edges of May’s voice are a physical thing wrapping around her and Jemma feels safe.

“And Fitz?” Jemma stutters, because she needs to hear it out loud.

“We’ll worry about Fitz when and if we need to. Right now, it’s out of our hands and in Coulson’s.” May emphasizes Coulson’s name and Jemma knows it’s meant as a reassurance. May knows it will mean something to her, whatever May’s own reservations may be at the moment.

Jemma’s still staring at the tiles, noting that May’s floor is, of course, impeccably clean when May announces, “We’ll get through this, Jemma.”

And there’s no way May can know that. But it’s an offering of comfort and Jemma’s too exhausted to insist they discuss it further.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she responds as she collapses on May’s bed and… oh, no. She’s sat on the bottom corner of May’s bed. She was so relieved she didn’t think and now what does she do. Jemma sneaks a glance at May who has gone back to reading her tablet and is pretending not to notice.

Definitely pretending. May notices everything.

_Interesting._

The smart thing for Jemma to do would be to stand up right this minute and exit the room. She’s made her apologies, May has accepted. There’s no need to complicate it with this sitting on the bed business. Except Jemma’s thinking of Skye who not only wouldn’t protest when Jemma would come in and lie down on her bed, but who would scratch lazy circles on Jemma’s back until Jemma was relaxed enough to fall asleep or to return to the lab and resume work on whatever that day’s crisis happened to be.

Skye would sometimes do the same in Jemma’s bed though she liked her arms stroked as opposed to the back scratches. Jemma’s thinking now of micro-fractures in Skye’s bones, the way Skye looked at her the last time they saw one another -- with guarded, unsure eyes, nothing like the looks that used to pass between them.

Skye’s out there somewhere. Without them. Without Jemma.

“You’ve been through a lot this past year,” May observes. Her voice is almost soft and Jemma doesn’t know what to do with that.

“We all have,” Jemma corrects, risking a glance at the one of them who handles it with even more stoicism than the rest to find May’s eyes on her. “It would be better,” Jemma says, “if we were all together.”

“We will be,” May assures her. And the certainty in the other woman’s voice is too much for Jemma. It’s not a conscious decision to curl up and lie down on the edge of May’s bed in that moment so much as it is a necessity.

May presses herself closer to the wall, distancing herself from Jemma and Jemma waits for the inevitable dismissal but one breath goes by then two and suddenly it’s been ten breaths and the objection hasn’t come.

Twenty seven breaths and May must be relaxing because they’re still not touching but Jemma feels the bed shift ever so slightly and then May’s close enough that Jemma can feel the heat of May’s body against her back.

After sixty, Jemma stops counting. For the first time in days her heart feels like it’s beating at a normal rate. She’s just thinking maybe now she really should get up and leave when May’s hand comes to rest on her side.

May keeps her hand still. Jemma starts counting again. Fifteen breaths in and out and the hand is still there and it’s not the familiar rhythm of Skye’s fingers against her back but Jemma finds it comforting all the same.

When Jemma shifts ever so slightly, May’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around Jemma’s hipbone, as if she’s trying to anchor Jemma or maybe both of them. It’s all the reassurance Jemma needs to close her eyes.

For the first time in months, sleep comes easily.


End file.
